


TMA Ficlets: Kiss Prompts

by cruelest_month



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Desolation!Tim in some fics, F/F, Fluff, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Suggestive Themes, Web!Martin in one fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-12 13:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19947091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruelest_month/pseuds/cruelest_month
Summary: Short fics based on different kisses assigned to different pairings fromthis Tumblr post.





	1. Exhausted Parents Kiss - Peter/Elias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Whiskeyjack. Takes place in the 80s. Peter and Elias are raising Gerard Keay.

Peter is still rocking Gerry when Elias comes home. Peter’s eyes are closed but he’s decidedly awake and singing “Somebody’s Baby” in a low mutter as if it’s a lifeline. Gerry’s eyes are also closed and he’s clearly asleep, but Peter is locked in a holding pattern.

Elias gently taps his shoulder.

Peter blinks a bit. Thank Christ he mouths before humming a conclusion to the Jackson Browne song. Peter often does this, paranoid that their son is going to wake up to complain if a tune doesn’t end properly.

Elias takes the sleeping child from him and kisses Gerry’s warm forehead.

“Oh sure. Enjoy him now that I’ve done the hard bit.”

“I’m not sure a medley of Survivor songs and swaying around the room constitutes as actual work.”

Peter glares at him. “You know he prefers the Cure and it is difficult. He doesn’t sleep that much, which you’d know if you were here. You get to work and I get hours of tedious activities. We played a mind-numbing game of peek-a-boo for half an hour. Then he hid in plain sight and made me look for him. Afterwards, he drew his first picture—”

Elias frowns. “He did?”

“Yes. In crayon, and it was for me, thank you very much. Even though it is a ball of abstract lines and shapes, it is in a place of prominence in the kitchen. If you move it, I will have you killed.”

Elias chuckles. Bringing Gerry in closer to his chest, he leans in to kiss Peter. “You’re a wonderful father.”

Peter sighs. He tugs Elias to him and buries his head against his shoulder. “For how much longer exactly?”

“For a long, long time, I’m afraid.”

Peter kisses Elias’ cheek. “Thought as much. I might go sleep on the couch for a bit.”

“I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

“Or he will. You’re not very musically inclined.”

“Entirely tone deaf,” which isn’t completely true but Elias would no more sing to a small child than he would to anyone else Peter has no such qualms apparently, a fact he would never have had to stumble upon were they not raising a child together. Still, Gerry quite likes it and it’s gotten him to talk a bit more. “We’re lucky to have you,” Elias admits quietly.

Peter smiles wearily before disappearing into the next room.


	2. Angry Kiss - Peter/Elias

Peter shoves him against the office wall, catching his wrists when Elias tries to shove him away. “You put me in charge,” Peter reminds him.

“I told you—”

“Since when have you ever given explicit, exact instructions? I did what you wanted. So you’ve lost a few librarians, so what?” Peter places a hand over Elias’ lips. “If you say you trusted me one more time as if you’ve revoked that good faith entirely now that I’ve somehow failed to live up with your unexpressed expectations? I’ll vanish straight away. Think carefully about how and before you speak to me.”

Elias stills, bristling a bit until Peter moves back. “I still trust you,” he forces himself to say. He’s cornered, backed against a wall and Peter’s eyes are still stormy.

“You ought to. I left your Archives as you wanted it. Molded your wayward Archivist when you abandoned him.”

“You did.”

“I got you out of prison with no small amount of financial effort.”

Despite not being asked to. Prison had suited Elias’ purposes very well, in fact. Peter will not care to learn this. “You did.”

This is met with an almost icy silence. It’s quiet save for the clock ticking and the faint sound of static whistling.

Peter tilts his head curiously. No, expectantly.

Elias frowns.

Peter raises an eyebrow. He moves forward again, capturing Elias’ chin between his fingers. He kisses Elias roughly, pressing him against the wall. “Well?”

“Well what?” Elias testily asks.

Peter kisses him again. He bites at Elias’ lips before deepening it.

Elias groans a bit, head tapping lightly against the wall as Peter comes closer.

“You know damn well. Say it.”

Elias tries to shake his head but can’t. It’s framed between Peter’s hands.

Peter’s fingers stroke over his cheeks and along his jawline to his throat. He applies only a little pressure as he stares steadily at Elias.

“…Thank you.”

Peter grins. “You’re welcome.” He moves back slightly, adjusting Elias’ collar and tie. “Why is that always so hard for you?”

“I can’t imagine why,” Elias mutters. “Was that all?”

“Manners makyth man, Elias, and that’s far from all that I want. In fact, I think I could use more gratitude given that you owe me a favor now,” Peter muses. “Let’s have dinner first.”

Elias considers the work on his desk and then Peter. His eyes are a normal blue again. His smile becomes more grounded, its razor-sharp edge dulls the more Elias studies it. He could decline, but there’s no sense in making Peter actually lose his temper. He could be a bit gracious although it does, in fact, cost him more than Peter thinks. So much is free or taken for granted when you’ve the sort of influence that comes with being a Lukas.

“Come on,” Peter cheerfully coaxes. His sour mood utterly forgotten now that Elias has stopped being difficult. “You’ll like it. What I have in mind, that is.”

Trust is such a regrettable thing and Elias keenly regrets it in that moment. “Very well,” he decides, relaxing a little when Peter kisses the back of his hand. “I suppose the work can wait.”


	3. Kiss on the ear - Jon/Martin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Jenavira.

Jon hasn’t been in Elias’ office in months. He regards it briefly as he enters, an empty cardboard box in one hand and nothing in the other.

The room is cold, the sort of brisk temperature Elias likes. There’s the steady ticking of the clock and also quiet breathing. Martin is asleep at the desk, half a sandwich in front of him and a neglected teacup to his right.

Jon sets the box down. The contents are downstairs on his desk. All that remains is a yellow post-it with a _thank you_ on it. This is, by far, the least important thing he wishes to say to Martin. Martin doesn’t want to hear anything he has to say. Even Daisy’s attempts haven’t work.

He pauses, setting a hand lightly on Martin’s arm. _Just for a moment_ , he warns himself. Just to reassure himself that Martin is there. Martin is not only there but he is warm and his jumper is soft. His breathing is delicate and soothing. Jon debates recording it but decides not to.

Instead, Jon leans down, careful not to put his weight on the desk and not Martin. Hovering over him, Jon kisses the shell of his right ear.

“ **I want you to want to see me** ,” he whispers quietly. If there’s a bit of compulsion to it, no, there’s only compulsion to it. But there’s no one awake to catch him or to say anything about it. “ _ **You do so**_ ** _come find me. The consequences don’t have to matter anymore. So stop hiding behind them._** “

Jon straightens up, smiling slightly. He touches Martin’s hair then bends down to kiss him again. “See you soon.” The headache he’s been fighting to ignore all morning has gone away entirely.

As he lingers near Elias’ desk next to Martin’s side, it occurs to Jon that he hasn’t eaten anything all day. He wolves down the sandwich, crumpling up the wrapper and tossing it into a bin. He picks up the cup and decides to take it with him. Martin always makes a perfect cup of tea.


	4. Returned from the dead kiss - Jon/Martin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Whiskeyjack.

Martin violently shudders into consciousness. Almost immediately, he starts to choke. He latches onto the arm that wraps around him and coughs up some kind of white gossamer paste. Eventually it stops and he rubs a fist into one eye. Something is very different, but he doesn’t want to take stock or access it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“Take it easy.”

Martin looks up.

Jon is hovering over him, his arm tight but gentle around Martin’s waist. He looks a bit pained and uncertain.

“Are you all right?” Martin manages.

Jon lets go and fetches him a glass of water. “I should be asking you that. Martin… I’ve come awfully close to losing you lately, but today… You… Do you remember our last conversation?”

Martin sighs shakily. “If I’m honest, no. It’s been awhile.”

Jon looks relieved. “How do you feel about Peter Lukas?”

Martin makes a face. He tugs Jon’s hand back and folds his around it. “If I’ve managed anything at all, can we… Can it just be us for now?”

“It is just us, but… I’m not sure what you’ve done,” Jon admits with a sigh. “No one stuck around to explain afterwards and I was a bit preoccupied. I don’t know—Martin, I don’t know how you came back to me.”

“Something good had to happen eventually?”

“That’s a very unsatisfying hypothesis. Unlikely too.”

Martin leans against Jon’s shoulder, breathing out softly when Jon doesn’t stop him.

“I’m not trying to second-guess it,” Jon promises. “I’m not.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t really care,” Martin admits. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Jon snorts a bit, looking at Martin with frustration and something like fondness. “I can’t help but feel you’re not focusing on what’s important. We don’t know how you survived.”

“There were spiders, weren’t there? I’m sure they’ll demand something soon enough.”

“You’re not concerned?”

“Did you miss me too?” Martin asks.

Jon blinks.

“I missed you a great deal,” Martin repeats. “Did you?”

Jon looks away. “Yes, I did, but I wasn’t going to… After everything that happened, you were safer away from me. I thought you were making a sensible decision.”

“One that hurt you,” Martin realizes. Or maybe he knew all along. Maybe that’s why he stayed so far away.

“Does that matter?”

“I thought I was protecting you. Protecting everyone.”

Jon chuckles bitterly. “Protect me?”

“From all the… There are beings and things that want to hurt you. Rituals that needed ruining and ending. You can die just the same as me.”

“I’ve been more alone the last few months than I’ve ever been before and I can count the friends I have on one hand. I was left to my own devices. Left by myself. Just me. That’s what I needed protecting from.”

Martin frowns, holding tightly to Jon’s hand. He’s suddenly worried Jon will take it away from him. “Needed?”

“I think it’s too late now. I’m not sure what I am anymore. I can’t bring myself to ask anyone who would know.”

Martin lets go of Jon’s hand and puts his hands against Jon’s cheeks. Jon is usually cold, but this time he’s warm. This time Martin’s fingers are freezing.

“Can I kiss you?”

Jon shakes his head then immediately nods. “If you… Whatever you’d like,” he manages.

Martin brings Jon closer. He gives him a tender kiss, brushing Jon’s hair back and then letting his hands stroke over Jon’s ears. He kisses him again and then hugs him.

“Whatever’s changed, we can sort out together,” Martin decides. “I’ve changed too. I don’t know how yet, but I have and I’m sure I need you. I want you with me. I want to tell you all the things I kept from you when I thought I was keeping you safe.”

Jon shudders, looking angry for a moment and then resigned. “I’m selfish enough to want that.”

Martin smiles. He lets his thumb brush over Jon’s mouth. “No. Human enough despite everything. Isn’t that a relief?”

Jon’s lips twitch but he doesn’t smile. Instead he tugs Martin to him and kisses him harshly. “What happens next, we do together,” he growls out. “If you want to be with me, stay with me.”

Martin sighs as Jon leans against him. “All right,” he says. “I promise.”


	5. Kiss on the neck - Tim/Martin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @midn1ght-sun-was-taken.

Tim has had one pressing thought for days. He wants to kiss every freckle Martin has.

At the start of all this, he’d wondered aloud what it was about him that Martin doesn’t like. Eventually he’d asked Sasha and her eyes had nearly rolled out of her head. She refused to speak to him for the rest of the day. He’d brought her a macchiato and took on some of the more annoying statements the following one to get back in her good graces.

“Watch him with Jon,” Sasha suggests and then Tim gets it.

He gets it and he doesn’t like it at all.

Martin wants to be treated like a scalding burn, something red and painful you put up with until it disappears. He does nice things for you like a friendly ghost, sight unseen and without demanding anything approaching notice. He wants to look after you then slink away like an underfed alley cat when it’s your turn to return the favor. 

A week later, Tim watches Martin from across the road at the start of their… well, it’s not a date. Martin had absolutely dismissed the idea before Tim could even ask. No, they’re coworkers becoming friends and going to the movies. Despite Tim’s best intentions and efforts.

Tim isn’t even late. Martin is just very early. He’s a sweet-looking fellow. He’s dressed nice. Maybe a little exhausted, decidedly a bit nervous. He checks his phone uncertainly and almost leaves several times.

Tim takes pity on him after a handful of minutes and heads over. “Let’s get something to eat,” he suggests. “I’m paying.”

“The movie…”

“Oh, there’s a later showing. If that’s all right?” Tim asks. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Martin shakes his head, looking confused.

“It’s just I’m starved and I’d rather not eat alone after. Gets a bit lonely. Looks a bit congested up ahead. Here so you don’t get lost.” He takes Martin’s hand in his and tugs him across the street when the light changes.

Martin sticks close by him, taking Tim entirely at his word. He holds Tim’s hand anxiously as though it’s a privilege soon to be revoked.

“Can this be a date?” Tim asks in a conversational tone as they walk.

Martin looks stunned.

“You can say no and we’ll just be friends but I have to tell you… I would like for it to be a date.”

“Don’t be… You don’t…have to… There’s no need for it to be like that.”

Tim stops walking. He smiles gently and looks at Martin. “I think that sometimes there is. You’re such a good sport, but that whole nonsense back there? That was me was coming up with a reason to hold your hand. I wouldn’t lose you, Martin, doesn’t matter how big the crowd.”

Martin blushes. “Oh.”

“It’s sweet that you just went along with it,” Tim insists. “I appreciate when I’m not called on my bullshit.”

Martin chuckles and shakes his head. “I thought it was very kind of you,” he admits.

“Then I’ll be honest as well. I want to take you to dinner and pay for it so you’re stuck with me longer. No pressure at all, you know, but I want a date if I can have one. With you.”

“You could have anyone here…”

Tim glances around. “Probably not,” he says with a shrug. He regards Martin steadily and gently. “I’m not very concerned about it. I’ll be even less interested in all the people I could have if you go on a date with me.”

“You want that,” Martin states as if for the record.

“I want that if you want that,” Tim agrees.

“It can be a date,” Martin decides. He doesn’t sound reluctant or nervous or confused. He sounds a bit hopeful. It’s a good look for him.

A week after that, and Tim isn’t much closer to having explored every freckle. He’s seen a lot of them, not nearly as many as he’d like, but they’re tangled up in his bed. After a week of steady and calm affection, Martin is less of a scared rabbit so much as a fidgety one.

Tim caresses Martin’s arm, walking his fingers over the freckles there. He kisses them slowly, licking at the space between them and nibbling at skin. He moves steadily up to Martin’s shoulder.

Martin blushes and finds it very overwhelming to be pored over so thoroughly. He doesn’t like to keep still for it, ducking his head and kissing Tim instead.

“Don’t you want to be studied like an ancient manuscript? I could create new constellations out of some of these.” Tim says, resting a hand on Martin’s thigh.

Martin laughs. His ears are bright red and so is his face. “Stop it. I’m hardly as interesting.”

Tim kisses Martin’s neck, tugging Martin into his arms. He presses his lips to every freckle one after another. “You’re less dusty but no less fascinating,” he murmurs. “No tome or text was ever as provocative.”

Martin rolls his eyes. “People move on to new projects though.”

“No, I think my aim is to specialize,” Tim insists with a grin. “You’re stuck with me.”

Martin smiles shyly. “I think that’s all right.”

“‘All right?’” Tim asks. “I stake my claim to you and it’s just ‘all right?’”

Martin’s smile grows a bit more confident. “Well,” he says with a shrug, “you’re not the catch you seemed to be at first. You were the one to point it out: not everyone wants you. People pass right by you on the street and they don’t even turn to look. That makes you attainable, Timothy Stoker. I’ve attained you and it was easy.”

Tim gasps in feigned dismay. “Can it be? Am I being teased? In my own apartment? In my own bed? By Martin Blackwood? Where’s a tape recorder when I finally need one?”

Martin throws a pillow at him but it’s worth it for the kiss that follows.


	6. "I've missed you" kiss - Basira/Daisy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @ceccilpalmer.

Basira smiles slightly when Daisy hugs her. Daisy moves back to look at her before kissing her gently. Like so many of the kisses she gives, it tries to convey all that still goes unsaid between them.

When she’s a bit stronger, Daisy thinks, she’ll ask. Maybe she’ll be ready whenever that day rolls around. It’s only she doesn’t know what happens to them then. Still, it can’t go on as it is and it can’t turn into whatever is going on between Jon and Martin. Not if Daisy is going to try to devise a way to help them.

“Really, it was all fairly… uneventful,” Basira admits with a look of dissatisfaction. “Save for a handful of incidents I simply observed so par for the course.” She glances at the back of Jon’s head as he leaves them. “Did you look after yourself?”

“Yes, and I did the exercises. It wasn’t the same though. So I went for walks. Found a coffee shop I like and a little bookstore.”

“Less incentive if I’m not there to coerce you into doing extras?”

“I miss you when you’re gone. I know it’s often now…” Daisy smiles fondly. “My object permanence isn’t what it used to be. I say it every time we’re apart but it’s the truth.”

“I miss you too.”

“You miss me when I’m here,” Daisy says without meaning to. She’s been dancing around saying it for weeks now.

Basira looks tired. “I worry,” she corrects, “that you won’t be yourself again. That you’ve never been yourself while I never noticed. That being buried alive helped you more than I ever could.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Daisy points out. “I wouldn’t be here without Jon’s complete lack of preservation instincts, but I’m fine with giving you credit for my progress since that point.”

Basira scoffs.

“Did you really like who I was? Before?”

Basira moves closer, bringing their foreheads together before she kisses Daisy’s cheek. “Yes, because it was you. I’m adjusting to how things are now. I’ll grow to like whoever you prefer to be just as much as I did my partner, but I do love you. I just miss how much easier it was before.”

“It feels easier now if I don’t think about all that I’ve done.”

“So don’t,” Basira suggests, taking Daisy’s hand. “Let’s go for a walk.”


	7. “I’ve missed you” kiss - Peter/Elias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @podcastenthusiast.

There’s a car waiting for him when he’s finally released. Sleek and black with tinted windows. For a moment, Elias considers walking past it and finding another way back to home.

He relents only because a window to the backseat lowers and Peter gives him a smirk.

A capped driver gets out and opens the door for him. Elias drums his fingers against the manila envelope containing the accessories he hasn’t bothered to pocket yet. He nods and climbs in.

The car door slams shut. Elias starts slightly at the sound, rather used to the silence of solitary and hours of letting his mind wander free of interruption. “I said I didn’t want to see you.”

“While you were in prison.”

“I don’t recall being so specific.”

Peter chuckles. He leans over, buckling Elias’ belt while Elias stares at him. Peter isn’t wearing a seatbelt, of course. Between them, abandoned for the time being, is a phone and a battered-looking book. He can’t make out the title from the spine. Elias sincerely hopes it’s not one of him. Peter goes to war with every single book he reads.

Elias brushes a hand through Peter’s hair. “Did I say I wanted you to come snatch me up the second I was free?”

“Ah, but you know me, darling. I only care so much about respecting your wishes. Patience is among the virtues I possess and, yet like all the rest, it is in a limited quantity.”

“Those virtues being? For the record?”

“Hardly worth mentioning since I’ve got you in my clutches,” Peter says with a grin. “I do enjoy snatching you up. Can you really blame me?”

The partition between them and driver goes up hastily.

Elias chuckles as he watches the tinted window rise. “He’s new, I take it?”

“Ish. They don’t last long.” There’s a click as Peter finally stops fiddling with the buckle and slides it into place. “I make them nervous and you only make matters worse.”

“Me?”

“All the delicious tension and chemistry between us. That or how loudly I mentioned you being a murderer twice over when I placed a very loud and pretend phone call.”

Elias laughs again and Peter kisses him. It’s languid and deep like a lazy wave lapping at the shore. Peter’s hands are warm where they wander under Elias’ collared shirt. He smells of storms and smoke as he always does.

Elias is extremely annoyed and so very unsurprised to find he’s missed this. He returns the kiss, tugging sharply at Peter’s hair before letting his hands wander down to Peter’s back.

“No calls, no letters, no anything. Just your tedious minions.”

Elias leans back and smirks. “You wouldn’t have missed me if you had me.”

Peter kisses him again. “Hardly, but you made me wait so now I intend to enjoy you.”

“You didn’t tell my tedious minions, did you?”

“No, I thought I’d let them have one last weekend to… They don’t exactly enjoy themselves, do they?”

“We’ll make up for them and lost time.”

“A fair point.” Peter taps on the dark partition. The car starts moving.

Elias allows his mind to wander for a bit until he’s handed a glass of chilled white wine. Then he smiles in Peter’s direction before taking a sip. “I wouldn’t have enjoyed prison nearly as much if you visited me,” he admits.

Peter almost chokes before pulling his glass away from his lips. “You enjoyed prison?”

“It gave me what I needed: time to reflect, to plan, and to be alone.”

Peter makes a face. “Is this where you tell me how codependent I’ve become?”

“Not if you’re going to,” Elias teases. “It’s just the you’re someone I could do with more of, not less. Seeing you, letting you hold my hand, hearing what you were up to… Watching from such a distance just wouldn’t be enough.”

“But you did watch.”

“Always.”

Peter looks pleased.

Elias lets his fingers wander over his smug smirk before batting Peter’s cheek lightly. It’s nothing like a slap and yet it’s enough like one that Peter’s eyes narrow with interest. “Ah, Peter, you did so well,” he murmurs, petting Peter’s jaw.

“And?”

“And the thing about your limited patience, my love, is it leaves me feeling rather proud of you. I think what little virtues you have ought to be rewarded, hm?”

“I rather hoped so. Although,” Peter leaned in, kissing Elias’ ear, “I was taking you home with me regardless.”

This is nothing Elias didn’t already know. “I see. Is it soundproof? That divider there, I mean.”

“I think so. Shall we find out?”

Elias tugs Peter to him and kisses him again.


	8. Giggly kiss - Peter/Elias

Someone keeps knocking at the door. He hides behind a bookshelf, hoping they’ll go away but he’s left too many lights on and he knows full well who it is. It’s Peter and he’s come bearing gifts in the form of takeaway.

Elias opens the door slowly and peers out. He closes it for a minute so he can giggle in peace then he opens it again. “Hi.”

Peter waves as best he can while holding so many containers and packages.

Elias leans against the doorframe and smiles. “I cancelled.”

“No, not quite. You called the restaurant, told me you couldn’t make it because you were out on a much better date with Peter Lukas, and promptly hung up.”

“You didn’t believe me even for a second?” Elias asks with a frown.

“…darling, I’m Peter Lukas.”

Elias chuckles. “Oh, that’s right.”

Peter raises an eyebrow and waits.

Elias considers. “Oh dear, well, you’d best come in then.”

Peter shakes his head but walks in. He tousles Elias’ hair then heads for the kitchen.

Elias frowns as something occurs to him. “You don’t want any, do you?”

Peter glances back. It’s clear he already knows what the answer will be, but he asks: “Is there any left?”

Elias laughs.

Peter smirks. “I didn’t think so. No, go ahead and sit down. I’ll bring you something to eat.”

“I can help,” Elias offers, following him into the kitchen and peering over his shoulder at what’s been brought. Chinese and Thai, which is brilliant. “Looks good.”

Peter brings out bowls, chopsticks, and forks. He knows where everything is so Elias just watches him. Well, watches and wraps his arms around Peter’s waist. It’s sweet that he’d come over, really. Unexpected and unnecessary, but sweet. He realizes he’s been saying all this only after he’s said it. Ah well.

“Have some water,” Peter suggests. He gently nudges Elias off and out of his way. Reaching into a cabinet, he grabs a glass and fills it up in the sink. “Here. Drink.”

Elias takes a large gulp of water. He takes a smaller one when Peter continues to stare at him. Once he gets a nod of approval, Elias sets the glass down.

“You’re ridiculous,” Peter observes. “I don’t see the appeal in the stuff, but the result is a good look on you.”

“Don’t be cross. I knew you’d come over,” Elias says, leaning against Peter.

Peter chuckles, putting an arm around Elias’ shoulder. “Really? Thought I’d see through your cunning ruse, did you?”

Elias giggles and kisses Peter soundly, mostly to silence him. He doesn’t want sarcasm, really. He wants Peter to pay attention to him, feed him, and look after him. It’s to be a delightful evening of not thinking, a task he could easily accomplish alone. So if Peter is staying, he’ll need to get on board.

To that end, Elias kisses him again and again and again, wrapping his arms around Peter’s neck.

Peter eventually (and gently) pries him off. “You’re to eat before I decide what to do with you.”

“I could watch you.”

“Watch me.”

Elias grins. “You know… Watch you. After.”

Peter eyes him suspiciously. “I recall what happened last time, Elias. Every single guffaw and chuckle before you fell off the bed. It was nothing short of cruel.”

Elias dissolves into a fit of giggles. “I didn’t mean to!”

“You’ll have to find something else to gossip about with Robinson. No, there’s to be no ‘watching’ on your part. Off to the couch, Bouchard. Assuming you want me to have anything to do with you.”

Elias did as he was told. He calms down a bit as he eats and Peter serves him a pitcher’s worth of water. Not entirely, but the point of this exercise isn’t to do anything much save relax. And he does feel quite relaxed.

After eating, he curls up in Peter’s lap, facing the couch and closing his eyes. He reaches out, exploring curiously the streets surrounding them. He drifts off and away. Then Peter kisses his forehead and eventually he comes back.

Peter is leaning over him. Their dishes are gone and doubtlessly his kitchen is spotless. “Upstairs?”

“If you carry me,” Elias suggests with a plaintive look.

“Hm.”

“You can handle it.”

“I can certainly handle you,” Peter agrees. “I’m just wondering if you’re worth the bother.”

Elias grins.

“You’re not helping your case. What are you thinking?”

“Just that if it doesn’t work out between us, I’ll always have Peter Lukas.”

Peter rolls his eyes and kisses Elias again.


	9. Kiss on the neck - Desolation!Tim/Martin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An idea that wouldn't go away after the Tim/Martin fic for the same prompt.

What rolls off of Martin settles something in Tim. The anger is still there in his center where it always is but it’s counteracted by sadness and fed by the pain simmering under the surface.

Tim sits down beside him at the bar.

Martin stirs and startles. He looks for an instant as if he’ll simple vanish like so much smoke, but he stays.

Tim keeps his hand firm but cool on top of Martin’s as he orders a drink.

Martin looks about ready to cry. He blinks a bit, tired but not at all drunk. He’s been sitting here nursing his alcohol and sipping at it only rarely.

“Didn’t try too hard to find me,” Tim observes.

“Tim…”

“Martin.”

Martin just stares at him and it hurts.

Tim savors the pain until he sees it reflected in Martin’s eyes. “I’m not here to harm you.”

Martin sighs quietly. He hesitates and then lets his hand wrap around Tim’s. “No?” he asks weakly. He laughs but there’s no humor in it. “Then where have you been?”

“Bad places, but not as bad as some. Far away and close by all at once. When I had the choice, I didn’t want to go back. I didn’t want to see anyone from before, not at first. Then I had to see you. It’s just I didn’t think I’d want to talk to you, so I watched you.”

“Watched?”

Tim smirks. “Some habits never leave us.”

“I didn’t notice.”

“You didn’t think to look. I liked it that way. You can’t fix me with your pity. I’m not the same as I was.”

Martin touches the scars on Tim’s chin. “You weren’t the same before you left either.”

“That’s still there,” Tim admits. “A lot of that is still here in me. It doesn’t gnaw at me though. It lights me up from the inside out.”

“You really…” Martin sighs again. He tries to pull away. Tim doesn’t let him and if anything Martin looks relieved. Relieved, but wary. What was once so easy between them is frayed now. They’re both to blame. Martin started the process, certainly, but Tim had finished the job. “I guess it doesn’t matter. I’ve got nothing for you to take. Nothing you want.”

“Hm?”

“For the… you know…” Martin lowers his voice. “The cult?”

Tim snickered. “What? The Cult of Limitless Twits? I tolerate them, but I’ve outgrown the rigmarole. I can serve my patron just fine without pomp and circumstance.”

“Is that safe?”

“Nothing’s safe. Still, you’ve something.” Tim strokes Martin’s knuckles. He stares at the freckles, fingering them gently. The pads of his fingers heat up slightly as he presses on them, but not enough to hurt. “Only the one thing. Only you.”

“I’ve work and tasks that need doing.”

“Give me a night.”

“Just one?”

“Greedy,” Tim teases, amused when Martin colors slightly. “See if you want more after the one. I won’t keep you from your choices.”

“Is that what they are?”

“Yes,” Tim says sharply. “Don’t lose sight of that. You are always making choices.”

Martin rubs at his face. “It all feels inevitable.”

“Then refuse it,” Tim suggests. “See what happens when you don’t do what you’re told.”

Martin shakes his head. Well, that’s no surprise. Tim didn’t think one conversation would do it anyway.

“Deviate from the script just for a bit then,” he offers. “Choose me tonight?”

“Of course I do,” Martin says fiercely. “Christ, Tim… You were dead. Not just dead but obliterated and for what?” He looks down miserably before looking up at Tim’s eyes. They’re a strange color now, more often orange than not like the twin points of birthday candles. “I just wanted to take it all back. To go back. So I could tell you that I cared about you too but I had to leave before you stopped.”

Tim puts an arm around Martin but says nothing. He’s long since run out of apologies or a use for them. “We didn’t stand a chance, kid,” he murmur soothingly. “None of us did.”

“You think we do now?”

Tim shrugs. “I think the odds are better for one thing. Or maybe I just care less. Your place then?”

Martin shakes his head. “It’s a mess,” he sadly admits. “Just dust and dishes and piles of boxes.”

“Hotel then.”

Martin follows Tim up and off their stools. He kisses Tim’s cheek hesitantly as if afraid it’ll burn. Tim accepts it, feeling the faint press of Martin’s lips lingering there like a scar. It hurts to have so little of his trust, to have so little of him. It feels really, really good.

When they get to the hotel, Martin pays for the room like it’s no big deal. It would have been once upon a time when Martin had to make every little bit count. Tim kisses him when they’re in the elevator.

Martin gasps, startled when it doesn’t burn. He blushes when Tim bites at his lips, tugging gently and mussing up Martin’s soft curls. Then he ducks his head, taking Tim’s hand in his but refusing to look at him as they walk down the hall.

In the room, he takes a shower, saying nothing when Tim joins him. The water is lukewarm at best so Tim takes care of it until it’s the sort of scorching temperature they both used to prefer.

He rubs soapy circles along Martin’s spine and up to his shoulders. Once it’s all rinsed away, Tim can’t help biting at freckles. Martin sighs shakily and Tim kisses him instead. It’s slow and steady, lips moving from one point to another. He’s missed this.

He presses his nose against the back of Martin’s neck before kissing him. He still can’t form an apology even now that he feels desperately as if he’d like to give Martin as many as he’d like. Tim imagines the ones he’s silently offering up as he holds Martin to him must sink into his pores the way the hot water does.

He gets out first, handing over a towel and ignoring how red Martin’s eyes are.

“Everyone left,” Martin mutters quietly.

Tim ruffles a towel through Martin’s hair. “I know,” he says.

“You’ve made choices?”

“Of course. After they were done with me. I’m doing it right now.”

“How do… How do I get to do that?”

Tim rests his head against Martin’s. He strokes the side of his face, wrapping an arm loosely around Martin’s neck. “The first step is wanting them,” he says. “The rest is putting yourself first else you lose yourself.”

“What if it’s too late?”

“Then we sort you out, hm?”

Martin refuses to look at him. He buries his damp curls against Tim’s chest. “We?”

Tim grins. “Elias is involved somehow, right? If I’m not going to hurt you or take anything from you, I might as well ruin everyone else’s plans.”

“Don’t you hate me?”

“Nah. The way I see it, you seem to be the darling of all the entities so I’m doing the right thing by taking up with you.”

Martin smiles thinly.

Tim pulls away and holds his hand out. Then he tugs Martin out of the room and towards the bed.

On the way there, Martin retrieves his phone. “Wait. I need to set an alarm.”

“You’re not just going to leave me with a note?”

“That was… I wish I hadn’t done that,” Martin says quietly.

“I know. So don’t leave me.”

Martin shudders slightly and then comes to a decision. “All right,” he says. He types a message quickly and waits for a reply. Once it comes in, he sets the phone down on the nightstand. “I’ll stay tomorrow. I’ve come down with a cold.”

Tim kisses Martin’s lips. “Poor thing,” he growls out. “Let me warm you up.”

Martin blushes but offers no resistance. He groans gently, sinking against Tim and kissing back.

Tim deepens the kiss and smiles. He thinks they might have a chance after all.


	10. "I'm sorry" kiss - Desolation!Tim/Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @taniushka12.

Jon feels the bricks dig into his back as he bites back his frustration. He shoves roughly at the hooded figure in front of him.

“I’ve a statement for you. If you settle down.”

Jon stills.

Tim lowers the hood of his sweatshirt. His eyes are orange and all but giving off sparks in the low light of the evening.

There are many things Jon could say. He feels a headache coming on and dull ache in the pit of his chest. Or perhaps the hunger is also in his head. He can’t quite pinpoint its location. “The last thing I need is to deal with you.”

Tim’s fingers sear burn marks into the fabric of Jon’s trench coat. No one so much as looks down the alley they’re in. How Jon wishes they could. He was so close to a meal. “Feeling’s mutual, but you can’t do around like this. People will talk.”

“Good,” Jon says with a harsh laugh. “I’m sort of hoping they will.”

Tim shakes Jon lightly. “You’re rubbish at this.” He shoves him back against the wall and shakes his head. “Someday you’ll find something you’re actually skilled at, Jonathan Sims. Today is not that day.”

“Who are you protecting?”

Tim scowls. “No one. Come on, I’ll treat you to dinner.”

“It won’t help.”

“When is the last time you ate something?”

Jon rubs his forehead.

“Utter disaster, start to finish,” Tim mutters. “Come on or I’ll make you.”

“How are you even here?”

“A question I’ve been asking myself frequently,” Tim says with a sigh. “How do you think, Jon? A series of unfortunate events, same as always.”

“So you’re, what exactly? A guardian angel? A guardian demon? A luckless ghost?”

Tim sticks his hands in the pockets of his coat. He’s wearing far too many layers given the weather. Jon still isn’t sure what he wants, but he follows him for lack of anything better to do.

“A zombie who just happens to be a glutton for punishment?” Jon continues.

“Look, if you must know? I’m a flaming skeleton who rides a motorcycle around wielding hellfire and just looking for Archivists to bail out of mischief whilst performing mad stunts.”

“…a what?”

“Johnny Blaze? Ghost Rider? Have you ever read a comic book?”

Jon shakes his head.

Tim chuckles. “Yeah, well, I don’t know what I’m doing. A friend asked me to keep an eye on you,” he adds with a shrug. “Makes you my designated idiot for the evening.”

Jon laughs too. “You look… good.”

“It’s a gift.”

Jon walks alongside him, still hungry but also curious. “You mentioned a statement.”

“If you eat a meal without gnawing on the restaurant staff, I’ll give it to you.”

“Why?”

“Because I think it would feel good to give these thoughts away. At least for a while. Because you’re a mess with nothing to show for it. I’ll savor that until things change.”

“You’re hungry too.”

“Usually,” Tim admits with a shrug. He takes his hands out of his pockets as they wait at a light. “I tend to graze. Not much of a large appetite so I placate the need as the mood strikes me.”

Jon hesitates then takes Tim’s hand in his. He hisses at first. The palm sticks to his skin and his fingers are like white-hot candles, but he holds on until the heat quickly recedes. 

Tim looks down at the burn and then brings Jon’s hand up to his lips. He kisses the mark. The look in his eyes is hard to read. “Not used to being touched,” he explains.

“I should have asked,” Jon wryly admits.

“I don’t know that I’d have believed you’d follow through,” Tim points out.

Jon turns Tim’s hand over, inspecting the back of it and then the front. The hand feels normal now. It looks normal. Tim’s fingers twitch but he keeps still. “I asked for you. When I woke up. You’re not wrong, is the thing. You never were. If I was better at this, I could have found you.”

Tim looks away, his expression neutral. “You rarely find the people you go looking for, Jon. The hope and the search is how they get you. So it’s better that you didn’t try.”

“Can I touch you again?”

Tim chuckles, glancing at him. “You haven’t stopped.”

“Oh. Right.” Jon considers Tim for a moment. He touches Tim’s cheek, relieved when his skin stays soft. It’s warm but in a way that feels natural and pleasant. However that’s achieved, Jon doesn’t truly care.

Tim huffs. “Jon. What I am is… Mostly monster, but doing my best.”

Jon kisses his lips just once, just briefly. Or, at least, he means to just kiss him once. Instead he kisses him several times, each one slower than the last. When Jon’s done, he sets a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Tim looks confused for a moment. He smiles uncertainly before drawing away, but just slightly. “Let’s just get you fed,” he decides.


	11. "Good morning" kiss - Peter/Elias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Fataldrum. Sightseeing in Tokyo or an attempt to.

Peter opens his eyes and gives Elias a dark look.

Elias regards him steadily, stroking his hair.

“I was having the most wonderful dream,” Peter mutters. “You weren’t there and no one was staring a hole through my skull. What time is it anyway?”

“Nearly six.”

“I could just…” Peter sighs heavily and curls up on his side. “Go away, will you?”

“We’re sightseeing today, if you recall. The Nijo Castle opens soon.”

Peter grabs at the pillows Elias has been ignoring. He fluffs one and places it under his head. The other he lays over it to muffle their conversation.

Elias chuckles. “We’re how old?”

“Do you really think there will be a crowd?”

“I do, and then I’ve a bit of work. You can sleep all afternoon.”

Peter peers out from under the pillows. “What if I decide I don’t particularly care?”

“Then I’ll watch you.”

“I could just as easily blind you, spread you, and tie you to the bedframe before going back to bed. Save you for when I woke up several hours later feeling quite refreshed.”

“It wouldn’t solve the problem.”

“No, but it would give me a pleasant image to stare at while you’re being irritating. I’ll add a gag. Play with you a little bit. Give my hands something to do before I nod back off again.”

“You wouldn’t necessarily trot off to the castle without me, that’s true, but I find it hard to believe you’d go back to bed.”

“Is that an offer?”

“Hardly. If you want me, you’d have to be marginally useful until nightfall.”

Peter perks up a bit, abandoning the pillows. “So it is an offer,” he murmurs, tracing the corner of Elias’ lips with a thumb. “Just a sort of rain check, hm?”

Elias arches a brow.

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t like it.”

“We’re in Tokyo for a handful of days and you want to spend it the usual way,” Elias says with a frown. “So I don’t see why I’m rewarding you for being a lazy slug.”

“You’re preventing my sluggishness. Come on, it’s good and proper motivation, darling. Quid pro quo. You get what you want and I get you.”

“You expect very large incentives for very small tasks.”

Peter grins. “Well, I am a Lukas.”

“I should get several days of early sightseeing then,” Elias suggests, moving back slightly when Peter tries to kiss him. “Several days,” he repeats. “Days where you rise early and retire late, exhausted from the effort of making my first trip to Tokyo a time to remember.”

Peter rolls his eyes towards the ceiling. “Until finally?” he asks without much interest. This isn’t a very new game that they’re playing.

“On the last evening here, when I’m well and truly satisfied, you’ll get what you want.”

Peter chuckles. “Elias, sweetheart, that’s a lovely idea. Of course it is… And yet…”

“What’s the trouble?”

“You!” Peter announces before shaking his head. “You and your ridiculous demands, dearest. Sleeping in would be infinitely easier than trying to sate you.”

Elias leaned forward until his lips were all but brushing against Peter’s. “If you want easy, you might as well sail away on your sad excuse for a ship and leave me to enjoy the sights. The Tokyo Skytree opens soon and Haruki Fairchild has been dying to have me. For breakfast. Maybe more.”

Peter grimaces. Or, perhaps, it is more accurate to say he bristles. He’s so painfully easy to make jealous that Elias almost feels guilty for winding him up. Almost. It’s not a lie to say Haruki is interested. However, the likelihood of anything working out with someone else is impossible. They’ve ruined each other for anyone else.

Elias kisses him gently. “Let’s try again,” he says with a good deal of cheer. “Good morning, Peter. Can you be ready in half an hour?”

Peter tugs Elias to him and kisses him roughly. “Anything for you,” he says, biting at Elias’ neck. He sucks at the skin until Elias groans. “You can have your days but I get your nights even before this grand finale of yours. If you so much as send a text to any Fairchild, you’re staying in my bed indefinitely. Alone. Watching everything I do just how you like it until I decide you’re forgiven.”

Peter licks at his neck. Elias chuckles. “I have to cancel.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll even be polite.”

“You’d better.”

Peter kisses Elias again, kinder this time. He gets out of bed and grabs what he needs for a shower. He peers back out after a second and grins. “Wear one of the sweaters I bought you. With the deep V neck. I want to see the mark I left on you. It’ll show up soon. You bruise so nicely. Just twenty minutes until the castle!”

Elias rolls his eyes when Peter disappears from view. He’ll let the other man have that, he supposes. Hopefully most people will be too polite to comment.


	12. Drunk kiss - Peter/Elias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An anonymous prompt.

It’s pitch black down in the kitchen. Rain is smacking against the windows along with several tree branches.

There’s music coming from somewhere. Elias frowns a bit. At another time he might be concerned that someone had sent along a diminutive opera singer but it’s clearly Peter is lurking at a table in the dining room. Alone. In the dark.

In fact the only light source is a smoldering cigar and an intense bead of light as a phone turns on and then off. The music goes away.

Peter turns slightly. Elias doesn’t need light to tell him that Peter is scowling. “What are you… I thought you moved out.”

“No, I’ve just been in the west wing.”

Peter snorts and sips from a tumbler. “No, you’re not. Find an umbrella and get out, if you don’t mind. I’ll have your things sent to you in the morning.”

“All right,” Elias agrees,” but first… What are you doing?”

“Whatever I like. In private. In _peace_. It’s my bloody house. I left for a month so you could clear out.”

“You usually leave for months on end for no readily apparent reason,” Elias points out. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Peter sits there for a moment then runs a hand through his hair. He takes a longer sip of his drink. “Assuming you thought about me at all, I suppose that’s fair.”

Elias slowly turns on a light.

Peter shields his eyes. He looks like he’s just gotten back from a party of some kind. His bowtie is undone and he’s lost his suit jacket. The top four buttons of his shirt are undone. Elias stares and feels somewhat broody himself.

“Elias… Do you mind?”

“I do, I think. You’re a bit of a mess.”

Peter scowls again. “If you won’t leave for good, at least retire for the evening. I hear the west wing is lovely this time of night.”

Elias smiles. He moves over and kisses Peter’s forehead. “What were you listening to?”

Peter looks sheepish and then irritated. “It’s none of your business. You left the papers on my pillow and disappeared this time. I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Do you want some tea?”

“No, and if you must know I’m here because I had to stay at a dreary fundraiser and talk to people I didn’t know all by myself. There was a bachelor auction and it was, in a word, interminable. Someone mentioned you and I pretended we weren’t divorced so I didn’t have to take some lovely young lady on a date for charity in order to forget all about you. So I drank and when people still insisted on chatting at me, I drank some more.”

“That explains some of it. I’m still not sure I understand why you’re down here instead of in bed.”

Peter mumbles something.

“Pardon?”

“…the stairs are tricky at night.”

“Turning the lights on can be of enormous benefit, I’m told.”

Peter snorts. He pours himself some more to drink or tries to. Elias catches his arm and takes the decanter away.

“So you sat in the dark with the rain pouring down lamenting your life’s choices while listening to Josh Groban?”

Peter glowers. “Why do you always ask when you already know?”

Elias shrugs, running his fingers over the engraved glass of the bottle in his hands.

“I don’t want tea. I’ve brandy. Had. Give it back.”

“It’s…”Elias pauses. “I’m not entirely sure I can select an adjective. It’s certainly _something_ to see you like this.”

“You aren’t meant to,” Peter snaps. “You’re not supposed to be haunting the halls of my ancestral home like a demented ghost of divorces past!”

“That’s in Kent, dear. You built this one twenty years ago. For me.”

“The halls of my decades-old home then. My point still stands.”

Elias chuckles quietly. “I’m making tea. Will you be here when I get back?”

“You’re damned right, I will. I was here first.”

Elias glances back only once. Peter sits there for a moment sulking before checking his phone. At least that’s normal.

In the kitchen, he makes two lavender tea lattes. The pocket of his robe vibrates and he checks his phone.

_There’s an intruder in my house. He’s good-looking but he won’t leave. He reminds me of you._

Elias smiles. _What do I get if I take care of him?_

_I’m single again…_

_Strange, so am I._

_I miss you._

_So I gathered._

Elias puts his phone away. He leaves the brandy in the kitchen, setting the mugs down on the table next to Peter.

Peter sniffs them and makes a face. “If that is vegan in addition to everything else, I’m moving out and taking the house with me.”

Elias sits down across from him. “Don’t worry, it’s not.”

“All right.”

Elias takes Peter’s hand in his, noting that they’re both still wearing their rings. “Peter Lukas, do you think you’d marry me again?”

“Yes, unfortunately. Just tell me when and where and I’m your man.”

Elias raises an eyebrow.

Peter blinks. “Oh. What, now? Well… It depends.”

Elias frowns. “What have you done?”

Peter laughs, patting Elias’ hand before kissing the back of it. “Nothing like that, darling. It’s just I never did anything with the papers from last month. Well, that’s not true. I burned them. I didn’t want to tell you in case you’d get indignant about it whenever we patched things up.”

“On the contrary, I think that was a wise move.”

“Seeing as you stayed, I’d say so. Solves a few mysteries.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, someone’s been doing my dishes even when the maids are gone. And my laundry’s pressed and folded even though I’ve been just heaping it about. Besides, I was wondering who was eating everything in the fridge. Thought it was a gremlin.”

“Didn’t you wonder where the food came from? Along with everything else?”

“No. Why?”

Elias chuckles. He leans over and kisses Peter gently. “I do love you. Thanks for taking me back.”

“It’s as if you never left,” Peter wryly observes. He takes a sip of his latte and decides it’s tolerable if nothing else. “Thank _you_ for keeping this particular routine of mine on a strictly need-to-know basis.”

“It’s rather sweet, I think,” Elias admits. “All of this melancholy misery for me. Besides, who would I tell?”

Peter grabs the back of Elias’ neck lightly and kisses him tenderly. “Not a soul if you know what’s good for you.”

“Oh, but my love,” Elias says with a grin. “You know that I don’t.”


	13. Seductive kiss - Peter/Martin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for Cuttooth.

“What’s this?”

“Poetry. You said you write it so I imagine you read it.”

Martin turns the book over gingerly. It’s a normal, slim volume. There’s nothing abnormal about it, really. There’s a rather nice gilded bookmark towards the middle. Even though it’s from Peter, He feels a bit ungrateful to be so suspicious. Eventually, he glances up. “Well, that’s… Thank you.”

“I thought of you when I read one of them.” Peter leans against his desk and grins. “You can look at it if you want.”

“I actually have a lot of work to do.”

“I have a feeling the boss won’t mind.”

“He has a lot of work to catch up on, actually.”

“Ah, Martin, you’re not much fun.” Peter leans over, picking the book up. “Here then.” 

Martin colors as Peter reads aloud. The poem speaks to wanting to know someone else, of touching them, of memorizing their freckles and—Martin clears his throat. “I get the idea. That’s… a bit…”

“Forward?”

Martin regards Peter with exasperation that, unfortunately, is approaching fond. Because it’s been weeks of, well, learning to cope with Peter. At least he’s preoccupied with poetry and not eating the other departments out of staff. “To say the least. I think you should stop.”

“Why? Because I want to know you? That’s hardly fair.”

“I have no objections to you getting to know me professionally.”

Peter laughs.

Martin blushes again. “I do realize that’s not exactly playing to your strengths but you could manage it.” 

“Sure,” Peter agrees. “Certainly if that’s all that’s on offer. Who gets to know you personally, Martin?”

“It’s unimportant.”

“It’s extremely important,” Peter counters. “Who gets to know all about you? Who commits you and your needs to memory? The way you take your tea, the books you like to read, your favorite time of day, if you sing in the shower… All of those little lovely details you squirrel away. Who gets them?”

Martin keeps himself from sighing, but it is a near thing. “It’s… Look, let’s… There’s work.”

Peter eyes him with concern. “If there isn’t anyone, you can say so.”

“So you can apply for the position?” Martin all but snaps. “I’m not exactly hiring at the moment, Mr. Lukas.”

“Oh, it’s Mr. Lukas. I’m in trouble,” Peter murmurs with a smile. “Aren’t you? Are you sure you’re not looking? You ought to be. You’re this endearing, intelligent young man I get to stare at every day—”

“You’re not here every day.”

Peter continues to smile enigmatically. “May I continue?”

“Is there a choice?”

“Thank you. You’re a rather adorably attractive young man with ruthless ambitions just swirling below the surface. Why shouldn’t you find someone? Someone who notices that and who longs to learn all about you?”

“Because that doesn’t actually happen.”

Peter raises an eyebrow.

“People like me don’t always get that. They rarely get that,” Martin says with a shrug. “You’re lucky if you find anyone at all to stick around. You have to make do with that.”

“Martin Blackwood and the Subtle Art of Settling,” Peter says, sounding impressed. “You can do a good deal better than that.” He leans over and pets Martin’s cheek. “You can have whatever you want. But if you’re willing to go for whatever shows up, go for me. I’m here. I’ve shown up. From time to time if nothing else.”

Martin rolls his eyes. Right. As if saying all of those things about him, all of the common and ordinary and painfully dull aspects of him wouldn’t make Peter leave. Wouldn’t drive anyone away, really.

Peter leans over a bit more and kisses Martin gently. It’s soft and not very demanding. Just lips pressed to his. It ends before Martin can do something foolish like return it. “How about this?” Peter asks, pulling away. “Just tell me your favorite color, time of day, and type of cake?”

Martin’s a bit dazed which leaves him feeling a little irritated with himself. He ought to shove Peter off the desk, but… He doesn’t. He doesn’t and then the moment passes. And he doesn’t even want to. He also can’t think of exactly what sort of devious nonsense Peter could do with those three facts. “Then you’ll do some work?”

“Then I’ll do some work,” Peter agrees.

“Blue, twilight, and spice cake.”

There’s silence for a moment as if Peter is absorbing this. “Thank you.” He touches Martin’s hair but he does rise to leave. He doesn’t ask for more than that. If anything, he seems oddly satisfied by this little exchange.

Martin sighs inwardly. Peter is annoying, but Martin can’t remember the last time he’s had a conversation with anyone. Let alone someone who wanted to hear about him. Maybe back when Tim and Sasha had been here. Before he’d lost people and gained too many he still needed to protect. It’s what he would liked with Jon, but… “Wait.”

“Hm?”

“You can… You can your work out here, if you want?” Martin says, refusing to meet Peter’s gaze. “I have to do the typing for you, anyway. And that way I can keep an eye on you.”

Peter smiles. “All right.”

Martin nods and looks up. He offers a small smile back. “I take my tea with two sugars and cream.”

“Do you sing in the shower?”

Martin huffs.

Peter seems to enjoy the indignant looks he never fails to get for his efforts. He kisses Martin again, a little bolder this time. “All right, all right, keep your secrets.”

He leaves for a bit to the point where Martin is beginning to think he’s never going to return. But Peter does. With tea and, of all things, an autumn spice cake. Not just a spice cake either, but one with with blue cream cheese buttercream frosting. 

Martin stares at the cake, feeling confused and oddly touched. It’s an odd amount of effort to go to just for a kiss or two and some useless information.

Peter peers down at him from across the desk. “You can save it for twilight if you want.”

Martin rolls his eyes. He sighs heavily and kisses Peter’s cheek. “Thanks for the tea and everything else. Do some actual work, please.”

“But of course, Mr. Blackwood.”

Martin turns to his computer screen before smiling to himself. Once Peter’s distracted by a pile of jumbled papers, Martin cuts himself a second slice of cake and gets back to work.


End file.
